I sat outside this morning, drinking hot warm tea
The sun was nice and warm, the tea, the birds and me
I love the morning sun, it warms my hardened face
A face that once would smile, when thinking of her grace
That grace is just a memory now, an untold chapter book
Of love and hopes and dreams, my face displays that look
It's peacful in the garden, the birds they sit and stare
Their voices sharp and playful, my love is gone oh where?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem